Sunshine on my Shoulders
by asparagus-and-strawberry-tarts
Summary: America and Maxon's honeymoon, full of hiking and nature, is almost perfect. However, America is feeling insecure about what will happen when she settles into life as queen.
1. Chapter 1

Happy Trails

America's breathing was heavy as she focused intently on the path in front of her. The trail she was walking on with Maxon was littered with uneven rocks of all shapes and sizes. America _really_ didn't want to spoil her honeymoon by twisting her ankle, so her attention was entirely focused on making sure her footing was secure. They had been hiking on this steady, climbing path for about an hour now, and America was starting to feel the strain. She was just about to ask if they could stop and rest for a moment when, abruptly, America felt a tug on her hand. Her hiking-boot-clad feet stopped moving. She lifted her eyes to Maxon's awed face next to her to see what had stopped them as he breathed, "Ames…. _look_."

Doing as he said, she followed his gaze and saw a gorgeous scene before her. Two mountains, dotted with green vegetation on their slopes and topped with peaks covered in snow, towered above the trees in front of her. America was sure her expression closely resembled her husband's as they both gaped at the beauty of the land that they now ruled together.

"I'm so glad we picked this honeymoon," America breathlessly told him.

There were multiple reasons for this remark. The original reason for touring the Illéan national parks as their honeymoon was to see the beauty of the country they had sworn to protect together. They had said their vows just a couple weeks before at their wedding and America's coronation. An unexpected benefit was the royal couple had also been learning a lot more about each other. Spending time together in nature was revealing even more qualities about each other to love. So far, they had been to the province of Sumner, where they had seen the Redwood Forests, then they went to Yellowstone, and then the Grand Canyon. Currently, their attention was captured by the Rocky Mountains.

Maxon lifted his camera, eyes sparkling, and excitedly snapped pictures of the majestic mountains. This brought the other benefits of their choice of honeymoon to America's thoughts. She got to see a new, adorable, amazing side of Maxon. She found a new part of him to love everyday they were away from the palace, the only place they had even been together. His enthusiasm about photography was one of the first things she gained a new appreciation of. Of course she already knew about Maxon's affinity for all things photography, but she had never really been around when he had a photo shoot. America discovered that she loved the way his dimples showed when he took a picture and the way he looked so serious when trying to get the right angle for a picture.

"Getting any good ones?" America asked her husband when he finally lowered the camera.

Maxon grinned boyishly, "Yeah!" He pressed buttons on the camera until he found the picture he wanted and turned the screen towards his wife. The picture was not what America expected. In the foreground she saw her own red hair, glinting golden in the afternoon sunlight, tumbling down her back. The beautiful mountains she thought he was taking pictures of were just in the background.

"Maxon!" She exclaimed in mock irritation while raising her eyebrows, "I thought you were taking pictures of the MOUNTAINS. You know, the ones we walked all the way here to see?"

"I was simply taking pictures of the most beautiful thing here," he replied, playfully defending his actions.

America opened her mouth to make a witty reply but found Maxon's comment had left her speechless. Her expression settled on a poorly concealed impressed smile, and she was sure her complexion looked something like the color of the pink wildflowers she had seen on the path. Maxon carefully set his camera on the ground and stepped closer to her.

"America Schreave, even after all the amazing things we've seen on this trip, you are still the most stunningly beautiful thing I've ever witnessed." He whispered, and suddenly they were kissing.

Maxon Schreave was a hopeless romantic.

When they came up for air, America saw something move out of the corner of her eye, and Maxon's eyes had shifted too. The guard who they had brought with them (for security reasons) uncomfortably turned his gaze away from them, and stared nonchalantly at the trees. The newlyweds were both smirking when Maxon's lips captured America's again.


	2. Chapter 2

Happy Trails Ch. 2

"Ok, catch this," America instructed her husband as she prepared to throw a peanut into his mouth. Maxon nodded seriously and opened his mouth. America gently tossed the peanut towards him, but at the last second he moved and it bounced off of his face onto the dirt.

"Maxon! You're supposed to move towards the peanut, not away from it!" America joked.

"That was entirely your fault, my dear, it was going to hit my eye!" he retorted.

"Oh sure, blame it on your wife. I cannot believe that you never learned the correct technique for catching food in your mouth." she told him.

"Excuse me, my dear, it must be a result of my upbringing," Maxon said. His use of the phrase "my dear" bothered America a little, but she had been trying to be more lenient with his usage of the endearment. She was, now that they were married, his only "dear", so it made more sense.

"Well I guess you need lessons, your royal husbandness," America replied. "Here, watch me." She tossed another peanut from their bag of trail mix up into the air and caught it in her mouth. "See? It's not that hard. You just have to stick your tongue out, and keep your head still in the right spot."

At this, Maxon stuck out his tongue childishly at her and said, "Alright, show-off, I suppose I could give it another try."

"Ah, I _do_ consider myself an accomplished show-off. I have trained _extensively_ with my siblings in the art of catching-food-in-one's-mouth. We used to have competitions with raisins, and they were all about showing off. I always won, so now raisins remind me of beating May."

"Is that so?" Maxon asked as he picked out a raisin from the bag and threw it at her. America deftly caught it in her mouth and chewed with a smug expression.

"Mmmm. Tastes like victory," she quipped, which made Maxon snort in a very un-king-like manner. Maxon continued his food-catching lessons for a few more minutes, but none of the food found its way into his mouth. Eventually, they gave up, so they could actually eat some of the trail mix before it was all on the ground.

A guard walked up to Maxon and whispered something in his ear. Maxon nodded thoughtfully before thanking and dismissing the guard.

"We have to move, Love," he reminded her while sealing up the bag of trail mix and stuffing it into his pack. He had told her at the beginning of the trip that they couldn't stay in one place out in the open for long, saying that it made it harder for "unwanted visitors" to "bother" them, but America knew it was more for safety than for privacy. The country still wasn't very stable, and the rebels were still out there. America frowned and pushed herself up off the ground.

"Is there _really_ anyone trying to get us out here in the mountains?" America asked him.

"Maybe not, but it's always best to take precautions," Maxon answered.

As they began walking in companionable silence, America began to consider the differences in knowledge she and Maxon had. She knew about music, and childhood games, and "the art of catching-food-in-one's-mouth", but Maxon knew about politics, and running a country, and "the art of making-sure-you-don't-get-assassinated-by-a-rebel-because-you're-the-king-and-queen".

 _Clearly_ , America thought, _I have no idea how to be a queen at all, let alone a good one_. It was obvious that she made Maxon happy, but what else did she have to give to the country? She would probably ruin it, given her history with trying to help Illéa. And, she had no idea how to handle herself in public. Her past as a lowly Five hadn't given her much experience with being in front of cameras and large crowds. Of course, she had performed at parties in front of crowds, but that was much different. For one, she wasn't the center of attention at a party where she was being paid to be inconspicuous and play background music.

And _Amberly_ – how could she possibly follow an act like that? She had been the perfect queen, and had done her job elegantly and seemingly effortlessly. Compared to Illéa's previous queen, America was sure to look like a chicken with its head cut off. What would Maxon's advisers think of her? What would _the country_ think of her?

America was pulled from her dark thoughts and back into reality when Maxon's hand tugged on hers. He had stopped to take a picture of the trees. Her wandering train of thought came grinding to a halt and she studied their surroundings as Maxon rummaged around in his backpack, looking for the right lens for his camera. All she saw were trees, some rocks, and the dirt trail.

"What are you taking a picture of?" America asked, puzzled.

"The trees!" Maxon said excitedly. "The way the light falls through their leaves is just amazing! And look at their trunks, see how some of them are curved at the bottom? I wonder why they're like that, but it's weird that the rest of the trunk is so straight and thin. And those markings on the trunks, it almost looks like the trees have eyes that are watching you."

America smiled lovingly at her husband's enthusiastic ramblings about the trees that were ubiquitous in this area of the country. "But haven't we been walking through these trees for a while now? Why stop to take pictures now?" she asked him.

"Well I've been wanting to take pictures of these ever since we started, but I thought it was a little excessive, you know, taking pictures of random trees. But I finally couldn't contain myself any longer," Maxon explained sheepishly.

"Now that you mention it, they do look very pretty, and I didn't notice earlier all the things you said about them. Thanks for pointing it out," America remarked. She said it partly because she knew Maxon was embarrassed about being geeky, but she was also telling the truth. The way Maxon described the trees made her see them differently. Now each one seemed amazing and unique.

Before her analysis of the trees could progress deeper, America remembered something she had seen in the trail guide she had read the night before. She recognized the white trunks, the "eyes", and the round, light green leaves as a certain type of tree she had found very interesting. She laughed out loud, and Maxon turned towards her and gave her a puzzled look.

"What's so funny?" he asked her, probably thinking his wife had gone mad.

"I'm glad that you like my ex so much," she quipped.

"What?" Maxon asked, even more confused than he had been a second ago.

America gave him an impish grin before saying, "Those are aspen trees, Maxon." His eyebrows shot up.

"Wait, what?"


	3. Chapter 3

America awoke to the faint sound of unfamiliar voices and the sun in her eyes.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Maxon greeted her.

She closed her eyes again, groaned, and buried her face in her husband's chest. They had stayed up pretty late last night and America was beginning to regret her choice to marathon the newest movie series with her husband instead of going to sleep like a normal person.

"What's wrong? Did you sleep alright?" He asked her in an adorably concerned voice. America's reply was muffled by Maxon's soft undershirt.

"I'm just not a morning person, Maxon, nothing's wrong with me. In fact, why do _you_ have to be so… so…" Her half-conscious brain struggled to find the word she wanted,

" _Awak_ e? _"_ she finished _._ Maxon's chest rumbled under America's ear as he chuckled at his petulant wife.

"Well, you woke up just in time, Sleeping Beauty, because look what's on the TV," he said. The TV explained the source of the sounds that America had heard when she'd woken up. She blearily sat up and focused on the screen. She squinted at it but her brain wasn't fully functioning yet. Maxon saw her struggle and explained to her,

"We fell asleep in the middle of the movie and didn't turn the TV off, so when I woke up this was on. It's a segment about our wedding," Ugh. America couldn't believe the press was still talking about her wedding. Would it kill them to leave her alone for once? Rationally, she knew her personal life would never be left alone again, but it still bothered her that the best day of her life was still being dissected over three weeks after it had happened.

"They're still talking about it?" she asked Maxon but more as a complaint rather than a legitimate question. He sighed, realizing his mistake in bringing it to her attention.

"I'm sorry love, I wish it was more private too. But when we get back to Angeles, they will have new material to discuss and they'll stop talking about the wedding so much. Besides, it's kind of nice to relive it," Maxon tried to console her, but if anything, he was making America feel worse. Sure, she enjoyed reminiscing about their wedding, but not when the whole rest of the world was reliving it too. What if they decided America wasn't actually good enough for their king? The sooner her newness to being Queen of Illѐa was forgotten, the better, as far as America was concerned.

A picture of her and Maxon feeding each other cake flashed up on the screen, and America couldn't help but scrutinize herself. She noticed her frizzy flyaways that had developed by that time of the night, how she was slouching, and how her eyes were so _squinty_ when she laughed, _and_ she had _icing_ on her _nose_.

 _How did I manage to look so un-regal on my wedding day_? She thought to herself. A glance at Maxon told her he was not sharing her depreciating thoughts. America had had enough of this. She flashed her husband a small smile before excusing herself to the bathroom.

"Be right back" She said, and kissed him on the cheek before dragging herself out of bed.

America stood in front of the mirror studying her face. She had just woken up so she probably didn't look her best, but that didn't stop her from scrutinizing her features. Her nose was too pointy, her eyebrows were an odd shape, her lips too pale and thin to be pretty, and her forehead too wide.

She tore her eyes away from the mirror and started getting ready for the adventures of the day. Her eyes drifted back to the mirror again once she had gotten picked out her clothes and gotten dressed. It was nice not having a maid intrude on their honeymoon, but the outfits she constructed definitely weren't as fashionable as the outfits Mary would've picked out. And Mary's outfits definitely accentuated what little she had in curves, another one of America's frequent areas of insecurity.

America's stomach growled, and she decided that her need for breakfast trumped her want to avoid the news program. She flipped the light off as she exited the bathroom and flopped onto the bed next to Maxon who was still watching TV.

"Get out of bed lazy bones! I want to go get breakfast," America told him.

"Alright, Alright, I'm going," Maxon replied, and went into the bathroom to get ready. America was left alone with nothing to do except watch TV, where they were still discussing the royal wedding. She tried to not pay attention, but they mentioned her old last name, Singer, and she instinctively turned to look.

On the screen there was a picture of May, looking very fashionable as she strolled down a sidewalk in Angeles. America observed her sister, who didn't appear to be frazzled by the paparazzi that had taken the picture. In fact, America thought jealously, May looked completely calm and even regal. Her vibrant red hair and bright but tasteful summer dress billowed behind her and her bright pink lipstick made her look intriguing and mature.

"May Singer, the Queen's beautiful sister, was spotted out in Angeles doing some shopping." One of the TV show hosts explained.

"I wonder how she's adjusting to life as a royal" Another commented.

"Well judging by that picture, she's fitting in very well! Her taste in fashion is impeccable, and she looks incredibly poised," The first host replied.

Apparently the report on her wedding had turned into a report on the rest of the royal family too. America sighed and searched for the remote in the blankets. Why was she still watching this? She was supposed to be having a relaxing and fun vacation with Maxon, not worrying about the press. After a brief struggle with the silky sheets to locate the remote, America shut off the TV.

"Are you ready to go exploring the dark and spooky caves?" Maxon asked his wife as they finished their breakfast. America nodded enthusiastically and chewed her strawberry tart.

"What camera are you going to bring? Won't it be dark?" America asked curiously. She didn't know much about photography, but she guessed that it would probably be difficult to take good pictures in a dark cave. Maxon's eyes lit up and America knew she was about to get a lengthy explanation about cameras that she wouldn't understand half of.

"I'm actually going to use a new camera that Daphne gave me as a wedding present. Apparently it uses a special sensor to take night vision type pictures. I imagine it's rather like the thing in the spy movie that we were watching last night," he explained briefly. Maxon's camera enthusiasm was unusually dampened despite the unique picture taking circumstances, but America didn't notice. She was still thinking about that stupid TV show and how much better May would be at being queen in every way. Or even Daphne- at least she gave Maxon cool presents.

"Are you feeling alright, Love?" he asked. Maxon had noticed his wife's distractedness.

"Yeah, I'm fine" America replied. She hesitated to tell him about her insecurities. He had so much experience being in the public eye, he was probably used to all of it by now. Later, she decided- maybe she could get used to it like he had and Maxon would never have to know.

So far, the tour of Midston's vast underground caves was going amazingly. America had never been in a cave before, and while she found it a little too cold and dark, she loved seeing the amazing structures that had formed over thousands of years.

"It's amazing to think that these existed before Illea was even a country. The people who visited it then saw roughly the same things as we are now," America commented to her husband.

"It gives some perspective doesn't it?" he replied as they came into a large "room" with stalactites protruding down from the cave ceiling. Water dripped from them onto America's head and she shivered.

The tour guide began explaining to them how the room had formed and how far underground they were, which seemed to America to be much farther than should be possible. America stood close to her husband and wrapped her arms around him as they both marveled at the cave. She preferred the warmth and safety of Maxon and the palace to a cold cave any day.

Once Maxon had finished taking pictures with his super-spy-night-vision camera, the tour guide showed them the ladder that led to the special vehicle that would take them back to the surface. The steep ladder built into the cave wall went up so far that she could barely see the top from where she was standing.

"We're going to have to climb up that?" America asked incredulously. "Yep!" their perky tour guide replied. Noting America's tone she assured her monarch,

"It's perfectly safe - no one has ever fallen,"

"Follow me!" She called before beginning to speedily scale the ladder. America just stood there, marveling at the tour guide's fearlessness.

"Go ahead, My Dear, I'll be right behind you to make sure you don't fall." Maxon assured her.

Trying to act confident, she took hold off the rungs and started climbing, remembering to not look down. When she finally gathered up the courage to look behind her to check on Maxon, she met his sheepish eyes. She realized that her husband might have had an ulterior motive for climbing up after her.

"Enjoying the view from down there?" she asked her husband. His enthusiastic reply came from below her,

" _Yes!"_


	4. Chapter 4

After getting off the plane in Clermont, a long car ride awaited the royal couple before they could reach their second to last destination, the Clermont Everglades. They had stayed up rather late the night before, and then had held a brief conference call with his advisers early in the morning in order to keep the country running in their absence, which made Maxon tired enough to fall asleep a little while into the drive. America, however, couldn't sleep. Their honeymoon was about to be over, and as sad as she was about that, she was scared. She was scared of the country, scared of going back to the palace, and she was scared of being queen.

Without Maxon to keep her busy, America resorted to staring out the window, watching the neighborhoods of Clermont go by. Close to the major cities the houses were large and well maintained with large green lawns sprawling in front of them. There had been plenty of well-dressed people walking the sidewalks of the city, waving at the royal motorcade excitedly. America had neither the heart nor the security clearance to roll down her heavily tinted window and wave at the crowd.

The sight of a tall brunette woman in a red dress had brought back memories of one of America's closest allies from her Selection. Her thoughts quickly ran away from her as she contemplated her friendship with Celeste. She had been puzzled at first about how Celeste could've been so unhappy and unsure of herself when she had everything that she could have wanted. Now, as queen, America understood perfectly. On the outside she had everything: a palace, fancy dresses, sparkling jewelry, a trip across the country, and a loving husband. But really, she still had her doubts about being queen.

The houses had grown steadily more dilapidated and small the further the royal car had gotten from the Clermont airport. Some had boarded up windows, rotting roofs, or sagging porches, and the small businesses they passed were in similar conditions if not out of business. The crowds on the streets were smaller and the people's clothes were worn. America watched outside the window with growing distress at the conditions in the country she had the responsibility to protect. It was becoming clear to the new queen that the situation in Carolina she had grown up with wasn't the worst of the problems facing her country.

She glanced over at Maxon whose head had fallen on her shoulder and began to run her fingers through his hair absentmindedly. Did he know about this? She contemplated waking him up to discuss it but thought better of it when she recalled all the problems they had discussed at the meeting earlier that were already troubling him. Besides, his face looked so calm and handsome when he slept. She turned her gaze back to the window.

"That feels so good, America" Maxon startled her out of her reverie some minutes later. America's fingers had continued to massage her slumbering husband's hair, and had evidently woken him up.

"Oh really? I hadn't even realized I was still doing it." America replied, still looking out the window. Maxon followed her gaze and wrapped his arm around his wife and they sat in comfortable silence. America finally worked up the courage to tell him what she had been thinking of earlier,

"Maxon, I've been looking at all these houses, and I had no idea people out here were living like this. Isn't there something we can do?" Maxon sighed. And she turned her head to look at him. From the look in his eyes, clearly he had noticed the same things she had about the state of the province.

"We already are doing something, Ames. I passed a law not long after I became king offering housing assistance and tax breaks to the people struggling in the southern provinces" He told her. This royal initiative was news to America. She pursed her lips, embarrassed at her lack of knowledge.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked sweetly. Maxon grinned appreciatively.

"Economic policy like that isn't something traditionally in The Queen's sphere of influence." He began, and America opened her mouth indignantly,

"But I get the feeling you're not going to be a very traditional queen. I can't think of anything you could do to help at the moment. We're really just waiting to see how the changes I made affect things before going forward. But I'll definitely tell you if there's something you can help with." Maxon promised. America nodded, still disturbed and concerned about her people.

Maxon gently ran his thumb along her furrowed brow, as if attempting to smooth out her worries.

"Love, don't think too much about it now. We'll have plenty of time to worry about all of this when we get back home" he reminded her.

"Besides, it really turns me on when my wife cares about the well-being of her people" he said, soliciting a laugh from America, which he quickly silenced with a passionate kiss. And America did forget for a while, her thoughts completely consumed with the wonderful man she called her husband.

America carefully lowered herself into the bright orange kayak that she was going to use to explore the marsh with, trying not to tip it over. She firmly resolved to stay dry during this adventure, as she didn't want to have to wash any muddy water out of her hair that night. However, she recognized the distinct possibility that her clumsiness would lead to the small boat tipping over.

"Ready, My Dear?" Maxon called to her from a few yards away, already rowing his kayak towards the mangrove trees in the distance.

"Wait a second!" she called "I've never done this before!" Maxon looked back at America, who had an adorably confused look on her face as she tried to figure out how to hold her paddle. He turned around and pulled his boat up next to her to show her how to properly row and turn her kayak.

"Hopefully I'm teaching you right" he said. "I've only been kayaking once on a rare family vacation to Honduraga, and I was only ten"

"Well then" America replied "We can fail spectacularly together"

Maxon laughed and glanced at her mischievously.

"See that branch over there?" he asked, pointing at a piece of wood floating in the distance. America nodded

"Race you!" He called and started rowing as fast as he could towards it.

"Hey no fair!" She exclaimed, but she was already paddling as fast as she could after him.

"You got a head start!"

"Maxon!" America cried in frustration. Somehow, she mad managed to get herself stuck in the roots of a tree, and now she couldn't get her kayak unstuck. Her husband rowed his own kayak over to her and chuckled at her predicament.

"It's not funny, I'm stuck!" She exclaimed, her patience with wearing thin. She just couldn't seem to get the hang of the whole turning bit.

"I'm sorry, I'll help get you out. I'll pull, you push." Maxon conceded. He situated himself behind her and started pulling on her boat while America braced her hands against the roots and tried to push her boat out. Suddenly, the boat was freed, but the force the couple had been using sent the boat wobbling backwards. America tried to steady herself, but her efforts were in vain and her kayak tipped.

An unladylike shriek escaped her lips before the murky lukewarm water enveloped her. America's toes squelched against the slimy bottom of the lake and she shuddered at the unpleasant feeling. When her head broke the surface of the water, she found Maxon smiling widely and obviously trying very hard to suppress laughter.

America pushed her sopping wet hair out of her face and tried to glare at Maxon, who was openly snickering at her misfortune. This only made him laugh more since she probably resembled an extremely grumpy cat who can been given an unexpected bath.

It was America who ended up getting the last laugh, though. The corner of her mouth quirked up as she swam towards Maxon's boat and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Ames, wha-?" was all he managed to get out before she pulled him down and tipped his boat over too.

When he resurfaced she reminded him,

"We fail spectacularly together, remember?"


	5. Chapter 5

They were going back to the palace tomorrow, and America was not ready. America was supposed to be enjoying their last night of peace in Chicago. Chicago wasn't a nature site like the ones they had visited on their honeymoon, but the royal jet had stopped in the bustling city on its way back to Angeles, so the newlyweds were staying the night.

America was anxious that tomorrow would go down in history as the first day of Queen America the Terrible's reign. She picked at her dinner, which she knew she should've been enjoying immensely. The fancy restaurant they were in had been closed to all customers save for the King and Queen of Illea, so the only sound was her fork clinking hollowly against her plate. She wanted to spend her last untainted time with Maxon in a happy mood before her world went crazy, but worry consumed her.

Maxon could be pretty obtuse sometimes, but even he didn't miss America's dampened spirit. America knew he was reluctant to end his honeymoon too, but she didn't think he shared his wife's worries about running the country. After all, she reasoned, he had already been doing it for over a year after his parents died.

America could be just as obtuse as her husband, which was why she hadn't shared her concerns with him yet.

Maxon was the first to break the silence that had begun to stretch between them.

"America" he said, "please tell me what's bothering you. I know there's something, and I want to help."

America sighed quietly. Logically, a corner of her mind recognized that Maxon couldn't do anything to make her problems worse, and telling him would maybe even help, but that stubborn streak her parents had always lamented told her she needed to handle it all on her own.

"It's nothing to worry about, Maxon. I just don't want this" she waved her hand around, indicating the calm ambience of the restaurant, but also referring to the whole carefree air of their whole honeymoon, "to end."

Maxon smiled knowingly. "It has been pretty great, hasn't it?"

A genuine smile and a faint blush spread across America's face at the thought of the "great" parts of her honeymoon. She replied coyly,

"I certainly enjoyed some of the more intimate parts of it, didn't you?" This brought the desired reaction from Maxon, who blushed a little and took a sip of his wine to hide his smirk.

America thought she had successfully avoided discussion of her feelings with that comment, but after a few seconds, Maxon spoke again.

"But there's something else, isn't there?" He pushed.

"America, please don't feel like you have to hide things from me- we've been through enough of that already." The difficulties from their selection, despite having occurred over a year ago, were still fresh in their minds, and America winced. Maxon noticed and started apologetically,

"Ames-" but America cut him off.

"No… you're right," she acquiesced. "I've been worried actually. I guess I just don't feel ready to run the country." She hesitated, "I mean, your mother did such a wonderful job, and you're doing a wonderful job, but I keep thinking that I'm going to ruin it! And I see how the press covers my family and us and I'm going to do something wrong, and they'll turn on me-"

She broke off with a sharp sob, surprised at how quickly all her worries had bubbled up to the surface and overwhelmed her. Talking to Maxon sometimes did that to her; there was something about him that made her want to spill her heart out to him. Or maybe that was the fact that she was completely in love with him.

Upon hearing her outburst, Maxon was quickly out of his chair and kneeling next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him. America buried her face into his chest. As she had discovered in the past several mornings waking up next to him, burying her head in his chest and hearing his strong, steady, beating heart calmed her.

"Hey," he whispered lowly, so that the guards stationed around the room, curious but trying very hard not to intrude in the obviously personal conversation going on between their monarchs, would not hear him. "It's going to be fine."

He soothed her while she took deep breaths, trying to keep tears from spilling over. America mumbled an apology into his dress shirt.

"No no no, Ames, don't apologize. I get it. Sometimes I feel the same way. I know you think that it's different for me because I've been a One for my whole life, but I do understand. This will seem like odd advice, but if you rely on your instincts, and ask people you trust for help when you're unsure, you can do great things. And one thing I've learned is that no matter how bad you think something is, it mostly turns out okay in the end. It did for us, didn't it?" America gave a tentative nod, so he continued,

"Even if your worst-case-scenario comes true, although I highly doubt it will, I promise you that I will be on your side, and I will always support you." After a second's silence, he added with conviction,

"For the record, I think you're going to be a great Queen."

Maxon's words didn't exactly cure her worries, and he had already promised at their wedding that he would stick with her no matter what happened, but she felt a better.

America pulled back from their embrace to give Maxon a watery smile, which he returned.

"Thank you" she whispered.

"That's what husbands are for" he replied, happy that he had managed to make her feel better.

"I love you" he breathed into her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

"I love you too" she returned.

Going back around to his seat, he announced,

"Now, how about some dessert?"

Maxon sure knew how to make his wife feel better.

America strolled happily through the streets of Chicago with her husband, the pair swinging their clasped hands lazily between them. She sighed contentedly, licking her slowly melting ice cream cone to stop the sticky sweetness from dripping onto her hand. She was trying to live in the present moment, enjoying what was probably the closest to normalcy she would ever experience again in her life.

The royal couple had disguised themselves as ordinary citizens for this excursion. Even their guards had changed into civilian clothes after the royal couple had finished their dinner. Maxon was clad in a non-descript baseball cap and fake glasses, and America hid behind sunglasses with her hair tucked under a scarf. Unruly ginger locks peeked out around her face, unwilling to be tamed. America supposed the most convincing part of their disguises would be the casual clothes they had donned. Most Illeans only thought of Maxon wearing perfectly tailored suits and America in glittering ball gowns, so the image of their monarchs in ripped jeans and t-shirts would make them almost unrecognizable.

The sweet sounds of music wafted through the air, catching America's attention. She searched around the city streets for the source a few seconds before her eyes landed on a small crowd gathering around a string quartet on a corner a few blocks ahead.

"Maxon, let's go listen!" America gushed.

Maxon smiled fondly at his wife's excitement. America imagined her face looked similar to Maxon's did when he geeked out over his cameras. Maxon must have found her expression just as irresistible as America found his because he nodded and squeezed her hand warmly.

"Alright" he agreed. America sped up her pace slightly, eagerly leading Maxon by the hand to the quartet.

"What are they playing?" He asked.

"I don't know, slow poke!" America replied brightly, "If you'd hurry up, maybe we could get close enough to hear them properly!"

Mock offended, Maxon replied, "How dare you accuse me of being slow! I'm not a slow poke, I just don't want to drop my ice cream! Besides, I know you're going to want to finish anything I don't eat, so you have a vested interest in the protection of my cone, my dear."

America had to concede his point that she was probably going to want to finish his ice cream later, so she didn't try to go any faster and risk upsetting her dessert.

Soon enough, they reached the crowd that had gathered around the musicians. Maxon and America lingered near the back of the crowd, not wanting to draw attention. America recognized the song as an arrangement of the music from a popular action movie, and told Maxon what it was. He raised his eyebrows in approval, and they comfortably listened to the rest of the piece, clapping with the rest of the crowd when it finished.

The next piece, both America and Maxon recognized. After the opening chords, America began singing softly in Maxon's ear.

 _Wise men say, only fools rush in._

 _But I can't help falling in love with you._

As the song continued, the young couple became lost in each other's eyes, both thinking back to their wedding day, when they had shared their first dance as a married couple to this very song. When it ended, the crowd's clapping and excited whispering brought them out of their reverie. They found themselves embracing each other, slowly dancing. America's scarf had slid from her head, and Maxon's glasses were knocked askew. As they tore their gazes away from each other, they realized that the entire crowd and the musicians were bowing to them.

So much for not drawing attention.

"Your Majesty" the first violinist timidly spoke up after the crowd had straightened. "It would be an honor if you would play with us"

Maxon squeezed her hand, and America realized that she was being addressed. She had grown used to hearing the "Your Highness" title appropriate for a princess. But now she was a queen, and she would be called "Your Majesty" for the rest of her life.

"I would love that" she replied, finding her voice.

America squeezed Maxon's hand and offered him her ice cream to hold before she approached the violinist. She handed her the instrument and America settled into her chair. The music had been flipped to the next song, one that America vaguely knew and was sure she would be able to sight read without a problem.

"You have a lovely instrument" America complimented the timid violinist upon examining the instrument she had been handed.

"It reminds me of the one I used to play in Carolina" She offered with a gentle smile. Her parents had saved up for years to buy a high quality violin that America could use to express her remarkable talent.

"And you all are wonderful musicians." She continued. "The King and I heard your playing from a few blocks away, and we were captivated. We just had to come and listen."

From the corner of her eye America could see Maxon beaming. Despite what America had feared, speaking to her subjects was coming naturally to her, and he knew it. He came up to shake the hand of the woman who had temporarily given up her spot in the quartet.

America turned her attention to the three awestruck musicians sitting next to her, all waiting attentively for her to begin. This was the kind of leading America knew how to do. She placed her bow on the string and imagined the tempo in her head.

As a role model, a public figure, a wife, and the passionate woman she had always been inside, she breathed in. As America Singer Schreave, Queen of Illea she played.


End file.
